A/N: It's more like an expansion than a sequel. It's going to show us how Yongguk and Junhong came to the point they reached in The Pages Change But the Words Stay the Same, and then it'll go beyond that. This chapter is more serious than most will be to show the type of person Yongguk was before he met Junhong and all his crazy friends.

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Yongguk is not especially skilled at skateboarding which is the main reason that he persists in doing it. There are tons of things he is good at: playing the piano, running, sports, cooking, cleaning, history, math, science, foreign languages, reading and writing. Really, the list is just about endless.

And it’s boring.

He’s tired of everything coming so easily to him. There’s never any challenge, and it’s frustratingly dull. So, he’s taken up skateboarding.

The skatepark is seven blocks away from his house. He hopes the distance is enough to ensure that his 'friends' and parents never see him at it. How shocked would they be to see him stumble, to see him fall, to see him be less than perfect?

Yongguk almost wishes that they could see it until he calculates the lectures and odd looks he knows it’ll cost him. Ultimately, it isn’t worth the trouble.

That’s the thing about Bang Yongguk: at the tender age of seventeen, there isn’t a whole lot that means anything to him. He’s become somewhat apathetic.

Spending his days in a rut of school, home, studying and sleep. Wash and repeat. During vacation the schedule changes to playing sports with his 'friends' where he is expected to excel, studying and sleeping. He knows he should be excited his senior year will be starting soon and not long after that he’ll be off to university. All of his 'friends' are thrilled about it, talking endlessly of what they’re going to do with their lives, the places they’ll go, the things they’ll see. He could not possibly care less.

The tedium of day to day life is exhausting; pretending it’s not is even more so.

Except for when he’s skating, or trying to skate as the case may be. Yongguk feels free, alive, happy, when he’s on his skateboard. He bought the board secretly with Christmas money that he’s been saving for years like a ‘responsible young man.’ It is the first act of rebellion that he’s ever committed, and it is probably why the board means so much to him. It's proof that he is more than what his parents try to force him to be.

Gliding over the cement, under the hot summer sun, Yongguk’s black sleeveless shirt clings to his skin with sweat. He feels gross, but he also revels in the fact that he feels anything at all. His smiles, closing his eyes and putting his arms out to the side for balance. He is flying—

“,” he growls as he lands on the ground hard. Pain shoots through his knee from where he fell on it. There’s tiny rocks and blood, and he’s not a baby or anything, but it stings. From all of his studying, Yongguk knows exactly what kind of nasty germs are probably crawling around in his wound, and exactly how infected it can get if he doesn’t’ clean it. “Aish… Now what am I supposed to do?”

“Are you okay?”

Yongguk looks up from his position on the ground and is momentarily blinded by the sun shining off the speaker’s blond hair. Once he’s able to see properly, he blinks and nods, his mouth having strangely gone dry.

“That’s good. It looked like a pretty nasty fall,” the blond boy replies as he kneels down. He watches as the stranger sets down two skateboards, one of them Yongguk’s—for the first time, he realizes that his must have rolled away when he fell—and then the boy is pulling bandaids and some sort of antiseptic spray from a black pouch hanging low off one of his belt loops. The stranger smiles, wide and innocent as he shakes the spray bottle. “Do you mind if I clean it up for you? Wouldn’t want it to get infected.”

“That,” Yongguk has to pause to clear his throat and tries again, “That’d be great. Thanks.”

The stranger simply smiles more brightly and goes about tending to Yongguk’s injury. He makes quick work of it, but while he’s busy, Yongguk takes the time to watch him, trying to figure out how old this person could possibly be.

He’s tall, slightly taller than Yongguk even, so he might be older. But his face is young and his eyes are too shiny and full of something childlike for him to be an adult. His smile comes too quick, easily given away when it hasn’t even been earned. Yongguk decides the boy must be at least the same age, or younger, than him.

He also decides that he wants to know more.

“Thanks for your help,” he says when the boy has finished carefully pressing on the bandage and begins to stand back up. “I’m Yongguk.”

“That’s the second time you’ve thanked me. It wasn’t that big of a deal, but you’re welcome.” The boy holds out a hand and helps Yongguk to his feet, causing Yongguk’s face to inexplicably heat up. He’s almost so fascinated by this strange development that he misses the boy’s laugh. It’s airy and bright, and it brings an answering smile unbidden to Yongguk’s own lips.

The stranger’s phone rings and he takes it from his pocket, rolling his eyes and turning to glance behind himself before waving at a group of boys that Yongguk can see making comical rude gestures on the other side of the skatepark.

“I need to get back before Himchan starts in on the really obscene stuff.” The blond glances at Yongguk, gracing him with one last smile, feline eyes crinkling in amusement. “I hope you feel better soon.”

Yongguk can only watch from a distance as the mysteriously helpful stranger walks away that day. His tries to skate for a few more minutes afterward, but his leg hurts and his eyes keep searching out that person. He wishes he could go closer, that he could see who those people were that had stolen the stranger’s attention away, but he’s afraid it’ll be awkward.

Not long after the boy and his group of friends leave, Yongguk figures it’s time to head home. Maybe he can get changed into pants before his mother sees the bandage on his leg and asks questions.

It’s not until he’s trying to fall asleep that night that he realizes the stranger hasn’t told him his name. For someone so smart, Yongguk feels pretty stupid. But now it’s a mystery, a challenge, and Yongguk loves those. He decides he will make it his goal to learn more about the blond, but only because it’s more entertaining than anything else he has to do.

Every day for the last three weeks of vacation before school starts, Yongguk sneaks off to the skatepark. Sometimes the blond is there surrounded by others, and he’s still fearful of getting too close and seeming like a stalker, so he stays away and quietly tries to stay upright on his board. He automatically searches for the bright blond hair as soon as he gets there, his eyes moving before his brain can stop them from their quest. Even though he’s always looking toward the stranger, he never once sees the stranger look at him. It’s refreshing since everyone else that he knows is constantly watching him, idolizing him. It’s annoying because he can’t figure out why he’s not good enough for this person to notice.

The blond stranger haunts his thoughts. He gets him lost in the pages of the books he is meant to be studying as his mind wanders to what the blond does when he’s not at the skatepark. Where’s he from? How is he always so cheerful?

Walking into school the first day back is not a big deal to Yongguk. It is just like every other day. The same faces, the same teachers, the same classes. He sends practiced fake smiles to people he doesn’t really know, to people that don’t really know him. He suffers through the monotonous lecturers from all the teachers about rules and expectations and fire drill procedures. The whole time, he’s really wondering whether or not he’ll be able to sneak away on his way home from school. It might be too risky considering it’s the first day and all.

In his next class, he slides into his seat, the one in front of the teacher’s desk so it’s less likely kids will try to talk to him during class. The teacher, Mr. Sang, isn’t in the room yet. Probably in the lounge stuffing his face with donuts again. Last year, Yongguk had had jelly and powdered sugar on almost all of the graded assignments he’d been handed back. It didn’t really matter since he’d recycled them all immediately when he got home, but the mess in his bag had been bothersome. He was not looking forward to another year of it.

Seconds before the bell rang, an excited, tall bundle of energy runs into the room. Yongguk stares, wide-eyed and speechless as the stranger turns from the front of the classroom and smiles brightly at everyone.

“Hello, class. I’ll be your teacher for the year, Mr. Choi. Please treat me kindly.” The blond bows to them before happily passing out papers.

Yongguk is stunned. Half-listening and half silently hyperventilating as the teacher goes over the basics, he stares blankly at the papers on his desk. There’s no way the boy from the skatepark is his teacher. He’s not old enough. He’s not…

But this person does have the same easy smile, the same playful spark in his brown eyes.

Yongguk waits with bated breath as Mr. Choi stops in front of his desk and looks at him. He must remember him, he must want to apologize for leaving him so rudely that day, he must—

“Are you having trouble following along?” The blond leans forward and whispers with a concerned frown. Yongguk’s ears burn as the problem students in the corner laugh.

He scowls and glances away, mumbling under his breath, “No, sir.”

“Oh, good. Let me know if you have any questions though. I’m always here to help. That goes for any of my students,” Mr. Choi says kindly, gesturing to the rest of the room before he moves away and continues on. Yongguk makes an effort to look like he’s paying attention, but at the same time he’s plotting determinedly. It’ll give him some entertainment, so maybe the year won’t be so bad after all.

Mr. Choi will remember him, Yongguk’ll make sure of that. By the time he's done, this blond stranger will never be able to forget Yongguk again.